The Butterfly Feeling
by FishingAtTheCreek
Summary: When Tweek was four, he had a relationship with Craig that lasted five minutes. He's in high school now, and he's still trying to figure out how to get a boy who doesn't love anything to fall in love with him. Meanwhile, Kyle gets what he wants, but it doesn't come with the satisfaction.
1. The Feeling

When Tweek Tweak was four years old, he was more twitchy than ever before. The reason for this being it was the first year his parents started giving him coffee. Yes, even though it would be rumored later in his life that he was breastfed the caffeinated drink, four was the magic age it really began. Tweek's parents said that the coffee would calm him down for his first year of school.

That was obviously as accurate as you'd expect.

On his first day in pre-school, he screamed a total of fifty two times, only thirty three of those had to do with talking to people. The rest were just random. Most of the other small children were terrified of him, but not all of them. The ones that weren't scared of him just bullied him. Namely, Trent Boyett. He would push Tweek into the closet when no one was looking and put a chair against it, so the poor kid couldn't escape. This caused many panic attacks, and Tweek even peed himself once.

Fortunately, Trent Boyett was arrested for setting their teacher Ms. Claridge on fire. Unfortunately, things didn't get better for Tweek.

Eric Cartman made himself the new class bully, and he was as bad as Trent. Worse, even. Trent tormented him, but all of that was physical. Cartman used his words, and he was hurtful about it. Cartman would remind him that he could've been the one to burn, and his parents wouldn't give a single shit about it. Even though Eric was only four, his words did damage to little Tweek.

The worst thing Cartman ever did, though, was on the day before Christmas break. He convinced his three friends to dress as elves and coat themselves with fake blood. Then, they told Tweek his parents were dead and he would have to come to the North Pole to be made into coal, like the other orphans of the world. The saddest part wasn't that Tweek screamed continuously for an hour. The saddest part was that he wasn't particularly upset when they told him his parents were dead.

Cartman was the only one who picked on him, and he only did it when he felt like it. On most days, Tweek would be alone. He would play his favorite games by himself, like Tag. This just included him poking himself and saying "TAG!" while running around the playground. Most people tended to stay away from kids like that. And they did, too. All of them.

Until Valentine's Day.

The new teacher demanded that everyone give out cards, but make a specific one for an 'extra special someone'. Even as four year olds, everyone knew what that meant. Even Tweek.

It stressed him out. He could give one to his mom or dad, but they wouldn't care. They'd just thank him, pat his head, then throw it out. Tweek didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see his love thrown away. So, Tweek decided to pick a random kid. He decided on the boy whose cubby was next to his.

The other boy's name was Craig Tucker.

Tweek never talked to him and didn't know much about him, except that he had a guinea pig named Spot he always talked about, he hung around two other boys, Token and Clyde and he liked to flip people off, which usually got him in trouble. Even though it was a gamble, it was all Tweek had.

So, the day before the Valentines were to be handed out, Tweek stayed up until four in the morning (which wasn't hard, due to the fact that coffee made him unable to sleep properly) to make Craig's card. It was a folded pink paper, with Craig's name in sloppy glitter pen, stars and squiggly lines surrounding it. Inside, there was a little picture of a guinea pig with a spot on it, and a poem. It wasn't very good, but Tweek was only four anyway so give him a break. The poem read, "_Roses are red, Spot has spots. Happy V-Day, I like you lots!_" Even though he was beyond nervous, he was confident in his little card. He was also very proud of himself. He had to teach himself how to read and write because his parents simply forgot about that.

The next day, he placed the little card in Craig's cubby and ran to his spot on the table. He signed his name on the thing, but immediately regretted it. Craig was going to show everyone and beat him up, he just knew it!

Everyone else gave cards to their 'extra special someone', and it was pretty entertaining. Cartman received none, Stan Marsh got the most (three; from little Wendy Testaburger, Kyle Broflovski, and an anonymous person. Though, the teacher did wink in his direction), and Bebe Stevens kissed Clyde Donovan on the lips. Hot stuff happening here.

Craig didn't talk to Tweek after he read his card. He looked at it, put it in his backpack, and sat down. That's it. Tweek assumed he hated it and tried not to cry.

At recess, Tweek was sitting on one of the swings by himself. He wasn't playing Tag, due to all the older kids making out on the playground. Watching people kiss made him nervous. More so than usual, since kisses were something he never got back home.

Suddenly, someone tapped him on the back. Tweek shrieked and fell off the swing. He expected to see Cartman, but was surprised to see Craig.

"Hi," Craig said, his voice emotionless and nasally.

"_GAH_! You scared me!" Tweek got up, wiping the dirt off his pants.

"I liked your card."

"R-Really? I- _ngh_- thought you would h-hate it!" Tweek admitted bashfully, giving Craig a smile.

He didn't return it. "Spot left this morning."

"_OH GOD_! I'm sorry! Don't hurt me! I didn't know!" Tweek guarded himself. "Why did he leave?"

"My mommy said he went to a place where guinea pigs go when they are old enough. Where they get everything they want." Craig didn't look particularly sad about this. He didn't look _anything_ about this.

"Wow, that's cool!"

"Uh huh."

"I mean, i-it's too bad you won't- _JESUS_- see him anymore. But at least he has everything he wants! I wish I could anything I want, I just-"

"Do you want to be my _boyfriend_?" Craig asked. Tweek stopped what he was rambling about, and looked at Craig. His expression never changed, but his cheeks were pink. Maybe that was the cold weather though.

"...O-Okay." Since Tweek was just a child, he didn't quite understand the meaning of the term. It had friend in it, so it had to be okay. He remembered he watched a movie once where a girl had a boyfriend and they kissed and hugged a lot under the covers.

Craig leaned in and kissed Tweek's cheek softly, making Tweek flush a bright red. His stomach felt like a swarm of butterflies were invading at maximum velocity. It was a weird feeling, but he guessed it was good.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, unsure what to do with this. "Do you want me to push you?" Craig asked, pointing at the swing. Tweek nodded, getting on and giggling as Craig struggled to push Tweek without falling over his tiny self. It was nice having a boyfriend. It made Tweek relax.

Then, recess was over, and the good times had to stop.

"Tweek."

"Yes, Craig?"

"I'm breaking up with you."

Tweek blinked, looking at Craig, who stared back blankly. "Oh. Okay."

Craig nodded, then went inside. Tweek followed after a few seconds. If he was older, maybe he would've noticed that when Craig kissed his cheek, he didn't stutter or twitch or shake. For a few minutes, Tweek Tweak was normal.

Craig Tucker was Tweek's boyfriend for approximately five minutes and twenty seconds.

For twelve years, all Tweek will think about is how to get that butterfly feeling from him again.

**So yeah that happened. Hope you enjoyed! I will continuing this! **


	2. Best Part of Wakin' Up

**I'm going to do this in first person POV. It'll switch around each chapter and there'll be different subplots. Give me some pairings because so far I only got Creek and Style. Also, the rating might change to M. **

**xxx**

**Tweek's POV **

**xxx **

The best part of waking up each morning is knowing that underpants gnomes didn't decide to kill you. At least, that was my favorite part.

All my life, I was terrified of those little demons who stole undergarments for questionable profit, but the fear started to go down a little when I reached high school. _He _would think that my fear is totally lame if _he_ knew it. So each night, I go to bed and try to sleep, praying to every almighty being that I wouldn't get my lungs stolen.

It only took me until junior year. Now, I can safely sleep without having a metal bat next to me when I'm unconscious. I actually managed to overcome a fear. He would be so impressed, but he wouldn't show it. He would just flip me off. That's just the way he was, and I loved it.

"Tweek? Come down or you'll miss the bus, son!" My dad shouted, without it actually sounding like a command. A lot of people say they wished their parents were as calm as mine. I'd rather have a pair of parents who actually care about me though.

But hoping that I was actually adopted and my real parents show up is a lost cause, apparently.

I get dressed (missing some of the buttons on my shirt due to my rushing), and run downstairs, grabbing my cup of coffee from the kitchen table.

"I'm leaving now!" I yelled at my parents, guzzling all the lukewarm coffee down in ten seconds. It was actually a decent brew this morning. Usually my mom likes to half-ass it and save the real talent for the shop. My day was just getting better and better.

"Bye, sweetie," My mom responded, chopping carrots. I assumed her own day wasn't going very well. The carrots were practically liquid. She must of took her meds last night. Glad I don't know the feeling.

I dash out the door, almost running into Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormick, and Eric Cartman. My four least favorite people.

"Ey! Watch where you're going, twitchy fag," Cartman hissed, even though I didn't even touch him. If anything, I almost knocked over Kyle.

Puberty seemed to be kind to these four. Cartman, amazingly, lost most of his fat by playing sports. He wasn't necessarily a tub of lard anymore, but he could still crush someone by sitting on them. Stan was every teenage girl's dreamboy. His pretty blue eyes and lean physique made the ladies wet their pants (and I don't mean in the urine kind of way). Kyle was this short, freckly guy with his old trademark hat still a part of him. It didn't really cover the ginger fuzz anymore. And lastly, there was Kenny, who ditched his huge parka and now let his beautiful face and golden hair grace South Park.

They were all good looking, and it pissed me (See: wild hair, starving thin physique, and a twitch) the fuck off. It did help to remember that none were as nice looking as _him_.

"_GAH_! Y-You watch it!" That was my incredibly brilliant reply. Yes, I know, it's a wonder I get bullied.

"How rude! Can't we all just kiss and make out? Er, up?" Kenny flashed a hungry grin that made my dick softer than a kitten's fur. Seriously, I know people find him attractive, but I just find him disgusting and perverted. He makes me twitch more and more.

"_Ngh_, no! I have to go t-to school!"

"Yeah, so do we," Kyle said sharply, crossing his arms. Oddly enough, Stan didn't give a snarky comment to match his best friend's. He was looking down, and there were bags under his eyes. More than me, even.

"Is Stan okay?" I blurt out, mentally punching myself in the face. _Why do I care I don't they're going to beat me up I'm going to die._

Before Stan could reply, Kyle gave him a look and muttered, "He's fine." Because I value my young life, I kept quiet. The bus came a minute later, sparing the five of us from awkward silence.

I sat alone. I always did. It wasn't because no one liked me (even though that was pretty true), I just got nervous when people sat close to me. Even him. Especially him.

History class happened and I flunked a quiz. How was I supposed to know Abraham Lincoln was voted the ugliest president when he was elected? Reading made me anxious!

Then it was gym. As always, I changed in the bathroom and got picked last for basketball. Someone tried to pass me the ball but I panicked and threw it back. It was Heidi Turner, and I nailed her right in the face. Great, now another person hated me.

Art happened, and nothing happened. Well, Kenny drew dicks and got a detention, but that was never new. He wasn't original nor was he funny.

English class, one of my favorites. Mostly because we just read the whole time and occasionally have tests about it. Maybe because it's the lower class. I'm not stupid, but the school thinks that anxious equals dumb. I don't mind.

Then, it's my favorite part of the day. Lunch. I don't actually eat in the cafeteria. Oh no. Something even more delicious is waiting for me in the library.

I don't go there to read the classics or chat with pals or study for big tests. I go there for one reason and one reason only.

That reason is named Craig Tucker.

I guess some would consider it a obsession at this point. All I do is watch him. I don't talk to him, I don't even know how I would start a conversation with this unemotional giant.

Craig isn't a bookworm nerd either, in case you were wondering. He flipped off the president when he visited the school, and his punishment was to help out in the library at his lunch time for the rest of his high school career. I don't mind. This way, I get to pretend to read something while checking him out. I could never get away with this anywhere else. So really, him getting in trouble is a huge plus for me.

I've been hopelessly in love with Craig Tucker since pre-school. We went out once. For five minutes, yes, but it still affected me. He made tiny cocoons grow in my stomach when he asked me to be his boyfriend and released the butterflies when he kissed my cheek. It was a Disney moment come to life. Minus the musicals and obvious sex references.

Maybe it's weird that I still want him after all this time. Every few years I try to convince myself that it's ridiculous, but Craig managed to make me change my mind. We fought in the third grade, we were partners for a project in fifth grade, and he gave me his peanut butter sandwich in eighth grade. Real, magical moments. How could I get over him?

The answer was simple: I couldn't.

As I was thinking about my passionate love life and how tragic it was (Romeo and Juliet practically), someone tapped my shoulder. I screamed and spun around to say really bad insults to the culprit.

Except it was Craig. Fuck.

He didn't react to my scream. He didn't really react to anything that happened to him. He was like that expensive vase you had in your home. Beautiful on the outside, but on the inside he was just...empty. Hollow. Completely blank and unfeeling. At least he looked nice. He towered over me at six foot three and he got shark bites, which somehow made him about twenty times sexier. I guess piercings were my thing

"Why do you come here every day?" Craig asked, although it didn't sound like a question to me.

"AH, what do you mean?!" I shrieked, forgetting that we are in a library. Several students gave me dirty looks.

"I mean, you're here. Every day. You never do anything, you just pick up a book then look at me." My mouth dropped open at the observation. Was I really that obvious?

"I'm not...this isn't...you're..._GAH, TOO MUCH PRESSURE_!" I banged my head against the shelf a few times.

Craig watched me, not saying anything or attempting to make me stop. It...managed to calm me down, actually. It was nice not having someone scream in my face or avoid looking at me like my parents.

Once I stopped, Craig went on with what he was talking about. "I don't care. It's just weird. Why do you only come here to stare at me? Do you like me or something?"

Oh god. _Oh god_. Today was going so well, why did Craig have to ruin it with his correct theories? Damn it!

"_What?_ N-No. Definitely not. Nope. Not at all," I laughed nervously. Yes, my acting abilities were absolutely flawless.

Craig just stared. Jesus, did he ever get tired of not having an expression ever? Did he even know how to smile? The thought of Craig smiling was both scary and arousing.

"Okay," Craig said, leaning against one of the bookshelves. "Just wanted to know. Hey, are you going to Token's party on Saturday?"

I twitched. Token was having a party? I wasn't surprised that I wasn't aware, but I was shocked Craig thought I knew. "I...I don't think I'm invited."

Craig raised a single eyebrow and holy fuck that was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my young life. "I'm inviting you."

For a second, I'm tempted to jump on this tall asshole and kiss the hell out of his pierced face. He was actually inviting me? The twitchy spaz? Tweek Tweak the Freak? Maybe the underpants gnomes actually did kill me and I'm in heaven right now. "Oh. Okay! I'll go then!" Could I make it any more obvious that I was hopelessly in love with him right now?

Craig nodded once, slinging his backpack on. "Cool. Starts at six. See you there, Tweek." He spun around and left the library, even though he had five more minutes to work. He was so cool.

I decided that maybe I had time to eat in the cafeteria, though it would have to be a fruit cup or something. As I walked out of the library, I slammed right into someone and fell back on the floor.

"Watch where you're going!" Kyle hissed, glaring at me. I was about to say some totally witty and awesome retort when I noticed the tears running down Kyle's cheeks.

"_GAH_! I'm sorry! Are...Are you okay, Kyle?" I tilted my head, getting up onto my feet. Kyle seemed to realize the tears that were escaping from him and wiped them away quickly.

"Fine. Sorry, Tweek. Things are just really fucked up right now. Just...leave me alone." Kyle ducked his head, rushing into the library before I could ask more questions. Well, that was weird. Maybe I should've followed him and helped him out, but I was on cloud nine right now and couldn't worry about someone I don't even like.

I had a technical pseudo-date with Craig Tucker.

**HA THAT WAS BAD I'M SORRY. What's wrong with Kyle? How will Tweek's technical date go? When will I ship Cartman with someone? STAY TUNED.**


	3. I'm A Bad Person

**The chapter you are currently reading is chapter three. It contains alcohol use, sexual themes, and super gay boys with problems. Viewer discretion is advised to anyone and everyone in fact don't even read it at all.**

**xxx**

**Kyle's POV**

**xxx**

Even though I like to think I'm the only one in this mountain town with any morals, I can be a pretty bad person sometimes.

But almost all those times I've tried to get better. I tried not to be such a heartless bastard those times. After all, I never want to end up like Eric Cartman. That would be worse than dying.

However, the situation I'm in now is something that could destroy someone. Yet, I don't want to stop it. It's selfish and awful, but I can't stop.

This all started about a month ago, when I was hanging out with my Super Best Friend, Stan Marsh. We were dicking around at his house, and the rest of his family was away in Denver because his dad was sure that he would find a genie's lamp there.

Stan's been my best friend since we were toddlers. He's really the coolest guy I know, even if he was kind of a pussy. The problem with spending so much time with one person was that you get attached. Like, badly. This is where I am.

I always wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him. It didn't matter if the kiss was messy and tongue-filled like we were in a porno, or if it was sweet like the ones he gave to his girlfriend. Yeah, you heard that right, _girlfriend_. Even though Wendy and Stan were the most dramatic and over complicated couple I've ever seen, it was obvious they loved each other. And as much as I wanted to hate Wendy, I couldn't. She was sweet, and she was intelligent enough to have debates with me about politics rather than the same celebrity bullshit other girls had. She was really cool, and it was obvious she cared about Stan.

So am I a bad person for wanting to steal her boyfriend for myself? Is it bad that I have the urge to smack her hand away when it locks into Stan's? Was I just the kind of person I've always preached against?

Well, the incident that happened just proved it. I, Kyle Broflovski, fucked up.

Stan and me were just lying around in his room, watching Terrence and Phillip. Even as middle-aged men, these guys were still hilarious and so original.

"Dude, dude, you know what we should do?" Stan sat up from his bed, giving me a grin that could only mean trouble.

"Even though I know that I, and probably the rest of the town, will suffer because of it...what?"

"It's not some big scheme to rule over Stark's Pond with an army of frogs like last week, I swear. My dad just has a bunch of beer in the fridge and I was thinking we could have some."

I was surprised, to say the least. Sure, it wasn't a plan that would kill everybody, but it was still strange. Randy Marsh's alcoholism was something I always figured Stan hated. I guess we really do turn into our parents. I pray to God I don't turn into my Jewfin of a father.

"Uh. I guess I'll have one?" I said reluctantly, not really eager to have this teenage experience right now.

Stan nodded, then ran down to get the beer. Was I really about to drink with my best friend? It was common for most teenagers, but we weren't really like most teenagers. Most teenagers didn't steal the Declaration of Independence with the president and Nicolas Cage.

He soon came back, with a six-pack of beer. What the fuck. "Is that really what you think 'some' is?"

Stan shrugged. "What my dad says it is." He handed me three cans, cracking open one for himself. The drinking began.

Well, mostly. I had a few sips before deciding it was disgusting and focusing more on the lame animated movie that was on TV. I didn't notice until five seconds too late that Stan drank all three of his cans. That night, I found out Stan was just as loud as his father when he was drunk.

"Dude. Dude, you know who's a fuckin' bitch sometimes?" He asked, not waiting a second for me to guess. "Wendy. She's always complainin' 'bout how I can't commit. Like, what th' fuck do you want from me? We've been together since forever."

"Uh huh," I mumbled, not really interested in Stan's drunken complaints, even if it was about his girlfriend. That is, until I felt his hot breath against my fucking neck.

"You're so much better than her. So much easier, y'know? Don' have to impress you..." He muttered against my neck, and then I felt his _tongue_ and I thought I was going to die. This was it. This was my last day on earth and it was all because of Stan Marsh's tongue.

"Dude..." I protested weakly, though I do nothing to make him stop. While Stan was basically treating my neck like an ice cream cone, I was having an internal battle with myself.

_This is wrong. _

Is it though?

_He's not himself. _

He's only a little drunk.

_He has a girlfriend. _

He can't stand her though.

_He's your best friend. _

I love him, though.

_But he doesn't love you. Not like that. _

That's okay.

_Is it though? _

I ignored that last little comment and decided to just turn off my brain completely. I carefully changed my position, so that my Super Best Friend was on top of me. I just closed my eyes and let him kiss me.

_Stop... _

Let him touch me.

_Stop! _

Let him fuck me.

_STOP! _

The next thing I knew, Stan was asleep next to me. Our clothes were scattered throughout his bedroom, in the strangest and most inconvenient locations. I felt like shit. Both physically and mentally.

I got up and grabbed my clothes, basically throwing them on carelessly. My shirt was on backwards, and the fly on my jeans was unzipped. But I couldn't seem to find a single fuck to give about it. When I checked my phone, I found out it was two in the morning. After a quick glance at my dozing best friend, I left.

I didn't want to think about it, I really didn't. But it was hard. How do you have sex with your friend and not think about it? If I knew the answer, I would've abused it by now.

My first instinct was to call Kenny and tell him about it. Kenny was my closest friend next to Stan. He knew how much I loved him. But Kenny was too busy wrapped up in his own drama. He was in some weird love triangle with Butters and Cartman. I didn't know the details, but I wasn't going to pour my problems onto him when he had problems of his own.

So I went to my own bed and cried for an hour, before falling asleep.

It's been a month and nothing had gotten better.

Stan wouldn't talk to me about what had happened. He ignored the subject completely and would always look so angry when I tried to bring it up. He would snap at me and just shout the most ridiculous, nonsensical things. He insisted that it never happened.

And yet, when we were alone, he would start drinking more of his dad's beer. When he was drunk enough, he would do the same shit to me that he did the first time. But I always let him do it. Because even though it didn't mean anything, it was the closest I'd ever get to the love I desired.

It was killing me. Slowly and painfully. Having to live with the fact that this guy I called a friend was a cheater and a liar. Having to face his girlfriend every day and pretend that nothing was wrong. I was dying. And it was his fault.

So, I figured I had to talk sometime. And I decided when.

Token's party. Everyone was going, all but one. Wendy Testaburger. She was going to New York City with her parents for the weekend and couldn't attend. That meant Stan wouldn't have somebody to hide behind when I confronted him.

The best case scenario was that we talked it out and forgot about it.

The worst? I lose my Super Best Friend.

But maybe I deserved that.

Because even I'm a bad person.

**xxx**

**Nothing actually happened in this chapter whoops. But I thought a bit of backstory was necessary idk. Also, this just in, I am terrible at writing angst. **

**Kenny's next. And this next one is a doozy, so stay tuned. **


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